


changes

by wildlavender



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Vampire Slayer, Balcony Scene, Cunnilingus, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Asuka Ryo, Trans Fudo Akira, Vampire Bites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-30 22:59:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17232749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildlavender/pseuds/wildlavender
Summary: “At least keep it classy.” He arched his head back, then, smiling down at Ryo. “Go for the neck.”Who doesn't love the mess a vampire hunter and their beloved vampire make together?





	changes

It had been a week since Ryo died, and he was looking pretty good, considering. 

In the distance, between towering buildings, the sun was setting, fast. Akira was flipping through the photos on his phone, alone out on a rusty fire escape attached to Miki’s new apartment. It was pretty cramped, a little off centre (he could only see through about a quarter of the nearest window), and housed a small, crudely build wooden shelter for some withering houseplants. Regardless, it was comfortable enough. For now.

The evening air bit at his cheeks. Summer’s heat had finally faded, replaced with a comfortable chill that made breathing easier and avoiding his inclinations harder. Akira hadn’t stopped thinking about the look in Ryo’s eyes as his slid his tongue over his teeth. There was a thought behind that move, or an instinct, maybe - Ryo’s canines, now elongated, had practically glinted with a new sheen of saliva as he flashed a knowing smile in Akira’s direction. Ever since becoming a vampire, he’d gotten even more insufferable. He looked the same, though, but Akira kept checking, cross-referencing old photos of his childhood friend to new ones, like he was now. The only difference so far was those teeth. Maybe a new glint in his eye. But tonight Akira was sure there was something new, something different, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Sure, he’d changed, too. You don’t nearly die and come back only to be told you’re the newest vampire slayer without a few supernatural additions. He’d already been working out for over a year, had been on T for two, but then, after the Shibuya incident — Akira sighed and pocketed his phone, opting to look out at the setting sun again. He could go for a beer, he realized, or, like, an entire family-sized bag of those chips Miki had in her kitchen, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back inside. He felt something itch at the back of his head, his throat. Something new. Something different. And now —

“Brooding out here?” It was Ryo’s voice, biting through the cold air.

Of course. He was never far behind, knew Akira. It hadn’t been more than fifteen minutes, but Akira knew his presence at the party would have been instantly missed. Not only by Ryo, no — he knew was well-liked, wanted, a presence that people coveted despite his intimidating exterior.

But only Ryo would come after him.

“Not brooding,” said Akira, shrugging. “Just thinking.”

“Your heart’s beating too fast for just thinking,” said Ryo. He took his place beside Akira, leaning on the iron railing, arms crossed in front of him. He looked forward, out at the city, instead of addressing Akira’s bewildered expression at all.

“How can you tell?” he asked. “How can you —”

Ryo grinned. “You know how,” he said.

Akira suppressed a shiver. Right. Vampirism came with many side effects, heightened senses being one of them. Akira thought suddenly of snakes. He’d always liked those videos in biology class, the ones that showed how a snake could sense the body heat of its prey by using something like infrared vision, the colours of the world shown in iridescent blues and greens and reds and yellows, all that heat, all that life. Maybe it was like that. Maybe Ryo could see right fucking through him, all the way to his pounding heart. 

“Right,” he said, shrugging again.

Ryo joined him in leaning against the fire escape’s railing. “I take it you’re not interested in coming back inside,” he said. 

Akira shook his head. “Not until it’s dark,” he said, looking out at the skyline again.

“It practically is,” retorted Ryo, and Akira felt his gaze burn into him. “Which works in my favour.”

For some reason, Akira felt his face go hot. There was something in Ryo’s voice — something in the way he moved closer — Akira knew what he wanted, because he’d been wanting it, too. Felt it when they were getting ready at his place — when they were driving here — and now — and now —

Ryo moved even closer, sidling up behind him, and pressed a cold hand to his throat.

Akira froze. Ryo leaned in, speaking softly, voice as smooth as silk.

“We’ve got about ten minutes. Let’s get this over with,” he said. 

Akira swallowed. Right. Sure. He wasn’t wrong, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d tasted him — they’d been in a hell of a lot of trouble lately, so — but Ryo could tell all of this already, apparently.

The hand on his throat was quickly replaced by cold lips that moved slowly at first before speeding up. Spidery fingers pulled down the collar of his t-shirt, lips following neatly after them, teeth graze the base of his throat. Akira swallowed again, and Ryo chased that motion, sliding a tongue over the shifting muscle and skin. Akira shivered again. He halfclosed his eyes, then, though the darkness was settling around them. Of what he could see, no one inside was near the window — someone, however, had turned on a light, preparing for the oncoming dark. Akira looked a moment longer, heart pounding, before Ryo’s lips met his, blocking it all out.

By the time Ryo was undoing his belt, more lights had gone on and dimmed down in the apartment behind them. They must be setting up a movie or something — maybe Miki had some dumb music videos she wanted people to watch — whatever. Akira hoped no one had noticed how long they’d both been out on the fire escape. They probably assumed Ryo was smoking, or waxing philosophic about something, two tangents no one would dare caught up in when he was involved. Part of Akira, however, was thrilled at the thought of being caught. Mostly, he knew, because Ryo wouldn’t stop even if he knew someone was watching.

He leaned back hard against the railing as Ryo’s cold hands brushed against his thighs as his pants were brought down around his ankles. Fingertips slid back up, hooked around the waistband of his boxers, and those went down, too. Akira shivered from the surrounding chill — and the internal one, too. Ryo’s skin, hands, and his breath, all of it just as cold as the surrounding air on his thighs. He heard — and felt — Ryo exhale before the slick cool of his tongue pressed between his legs, clean lines drawn up his thighs before he drew it along his slit. Ryo’s lips parted, pressing closer, and something sharp grazed against Akira’s skin.

“…watch your teeth,” hissed Akira, shivering again. He reached down and found a tight grip in Ryo’s hair. It was this that urged Ryo on. He cooly pressed even closer, working his tongue in total silence, hands pressed to Akira thighs, keeping them spread in a firm and unyielding grip. He heard how wet he was before he felt it, the cool of the night air making it all the more apparent. It was hot, though, so he didn’t care — he loved seeing Ryo’s lips shiny and wet in the half light — even better if that same sheen was all over the lower half of his face, his neck. His stupid, perfect skin, warmed and wet by being between Akira’s legs — 

A flash of pain broke Akira out of his revery. He didn’t watch his teeth. The edges of those sharp canines caught against skin again and again, in a counter-rhythm to the circling of Ryo’s tongue. Akira gasped at the pain. It was minor, and not entirely unpleasant, but it caught him off-guard nonetheless — and every time he gasped, Ryo worked his mouth a little more. 

By the time Ryo started sucking on his clit, the rest of him felt raw. Gripping hard against the railing, Akira grimaced. He looked down. It was dark enough now that Ryo’s blonde hair seemed to glow, and god, he was hot, his slim shoulders and sharp edges of his jaw, thin fingers in a vice grip on Akira’s thighs. Right — fuck — good idea. Akira swallowed before speaking. “Use your fingers,” he said, voice straining. “Get up — use —”

“I heard you,” drawled Ryo, pulling away. He stood, grabbed Akira’s jaw, and met his gaze. His lips, noted Akira, were as red and raw and slick as it felt between his thighs. He blinked. Ryo did not. 

“You’re enjoying this — these?” asked Ryo, using his free hand to carefully touch his teeth. “I expected as much. But I also expected you to endure for longer.”

Akira frowned. “I don’t want my blood drained from my fucking pussy, asshole,” he said. “At least keep it classy.” He arched his head back, then, smiling down at Ryo. “Go for the neck.”

Ryo blinked, his expression unchanged, but he was still for a moment before moving in. Lips trailed along Akira’s skin as he slid his hand down, down, down, back between his legs. Akira shuddered at the cool touch, Ryo’s cold fingertips working against such heat, massaging slit and clit with measured strokes. It was all he focused on until the sharp, undeniably warm feeling hit his neck.

It felt like a papercut — a sharp, hot, shock that faded after a moment, leaving a lingering ache. And the ache did linger, but fuck, if it didn’t feel good. Ryo quickly replaced teeth with cool lips as he slid his fingers up and into him, hard. Akira gasped, then groaned as he felt those fingers spread him open a little wider, a hurried, scissoring motion sending little shocks of pleasure up his spine. 

He arched back, jutting his hips forward, grinding down on Ryo’s fingers as he tried to swallow further moans. Ten minutes — it had been longer than ten minutes, but at the pace Ryo was going, this would be over soon. 

Or so he thought.

Ryo pulled out, away, and stood up without uttering a word. “What — why are you —” began Akira, breathless, but he didn’t have the chance to finish his half-formed thoughts. Ryo leaned in and pressed his lips to Akira’s. He could feel the smile spread across his icy mouth before he saw it. 

“You can wait,” he said. “You’ve got the stamina for it now, don’t you?”

It wasn’t so much a question as it was a cold observation. Ryo pulled way and went back inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. Akira was left to put everything back into place, slow his breathing, and steadily ignore the heat that still lingered beneath his legs.

As he faced the horizon again, he reached two fingers up to touch the spot on his neck that was still humming with mild pain. When he pulled them back, they were wet with blood.

Unable to help himself, he smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> started the year with devilman crybaby, finishing here with it now in self-indulgent style, because why not. let's leave it in 2018, thanks


End file.
